Comments about George Meredith

The Lark Ascending

He rises and begins to round,He drops the silver chain of soundOf many links without a break,In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,All intervolv’d and spreading wide,Like water-dimples down a tideWhere ripple ripple overcurlsAnd eddy into eddy whirls;A press of hurried notes that runSo fleet they scarce are more than one,Yet changingly the trills repeatAnd linger ringing while they fleet,Sweet to the quick o’ the ear, and dearTo her beyond the handmaid ear,Who sits beside our inner springs,Too often dry for this he brings,Which ...

Juggling Jerry

Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage.It's nigh my last above the daisies:My next leaf'll be man's blank page.Yes, my old girl! and it's no use crying:Juggler, constable, king, must bow.One that outjuggles all's been spyingLong to have me, and he has me now.